Title: The Benefits of Sleep.
Author: CGB (luberluber@yahoo.com.au)
Web: http://Appelsini.tripod.com/Christine/
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Feedback: Dang good!!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from below and I'm certainly not making any money from their use.
Summary: CJ/Toby fic. Toby gets a little sleep deprived and distracted.
*
The Benefits of Sleep
He was watching her cross and un-cross her legs in the oval office. He admired the way the curves of her knee seemed to point to a small crescent shaped scar at the top of her shin. He was idly imagining trailing a finger from her knee to the top of the scar when he noticed she had caught him staring. She arched an eyebrow at him and he looked away.
The President was absorbed in
something Sam was saying and Toby had missed the entire dialogue. He immediately berated himself for his lack
of concentration. It was unlike him.
In the oval office there was
no excuse for not paying attention. Not even the fact that it was eleven thirty
at night and he was tired. So tired that his brain found in CJ Gregg's legs a
more appealing subject than the mechanics of running the nation. He knew he
should sleep more but he could never understand the appeal of sleep. If someone
wasn't always telling him to go home and get some sleep he imagined he would
spend twenty-four hours a day roaming the White House.
The President was laughing.
"Get some sleep Sam!" he
instructed in a fatherly tone, "Get some sleep all of you."
And with that they filed out
of the office.
Josh was immediately at his
side.
"Where were you?"
"Excuse me?"
"I thought you wanted 8 am
for the PBS Board?"
"I did."
"Too late. Sam took it right
out from under your nose while you were sleeping back there."
Toby stopped walking.
"Dammit Josh why didn't you
say something?"
"I thought you didn't want it
anymore."
"Damn." He shook his head and
resumed the walk back to his office.
"Talk to Sam, he's flexible".
Toby stepped into his office
and waved his hand.
"See you tomorrow Josh."
"Get some sleep Toby," Josh
answered him earnestly.
Once inside his office he
sank into the chair pushed into an odd angle at his desk and leaned his head
back.
He had been staring at her
legs. He couldn't even begin to list all the problems inherent in that subject
of observation.
Aside from the obvious danger
of crossing boundaries established between co-workers in an office environment,
he had been directing his lascivious gaze at CJ who, while highly deserving of
such an appreciative stare, was likely to punish him with a distinctly cold
manner coupled with the occasional acerbic comment. He'd seen her work the pressroom like they were incorrigible
school children. He considered himself capable of clever rhetoric but CJ's
disdain left one with the feeling of having failed miserably to live up to her
high standards.
Certainly it had that effect
on him.
He could see her arched
eyebrow and thinly pursed lips in his mind now. She was wearing a white blouse. Yesterday it was a mustard yellow
with pants. She looked intelligent. She looked like she'd ask for a Scotch neat
if you took her out for a drink. He wasn't much of a drinker but he had a
strange feeling he'd like to see her drink Scotch
"I thought you wanted 8 am?"
She was standing in the
doorway resting one hand against the jamb.
"Sam got it," he replied
without hesitation.
"You should have been paying
attention." The corner of one side of her mouth went up as though she might
smile but it fell quickly.
He looked at the floor and
then up again at her. She was still there waiting for him to say
something.
"Goodnight CJ," he said.
"Night," she said softly.
He got a taxi home. In the
kitchen of his one bedroom apartment he found a container of milk that had sat
outside of his refrigerator since the weekend. It bloated slightly dissuading
any argument that might have suggested it was still drinkable.
He poured it down the sink.
He had a nice apartment really, he just wasn't in it enough to treat it with
the love it deserved. He had a dead
potted plant in the corner and was momentarily grateful he didn't have any
pets.
He had an apartment that
suggested he never intended to bring a woman home. He had an apartment that
suggested he didn't think about it very often either.
He looked at the sofa and
wondered whether it might be more aesthetically pleasing if it were placed by
the window.
After several minutes
contemplating the problem he gave up and doomed himself forever to his
stereotypical bachelor-like existence.
And what the hell did it
matter anyway?
When she came out of the
pressroom the next day he was waiting for her.
"CJ can I talk to you?"
"Sure. What's up?" she said
as she continued walking.
"Privately?"
She inclined her head forward
slightly and he followed her into her office. She shut the door behind them.
Inside she leaned against her
desk and folded her arms. Toby watched the fish swim around the American flags
in their bowl. Danny, he remembered gave her the fish out of a rather charming
misunderstanding.
Danny. Charming, professional
and sincere Danny. Nice guy.
"What is it Toby?"
He cleared his throat.
"Ah... I thought I should
apologize for my ... ah... inappropriate behavior in the office last night."
"You were staring at my
legs."
"Yes." He nodded.
"You're apologizing for
staring at my legs?"
"It would seem so."
"How did you like them?"
"Your legs?"
"No, Josh and Sam's double
juggling act. Yes, my legs Toby. How did you like them?"
"They were...distracting."
Her face went blank
momentarily and then she tilted her head back and laughed.
"That's good," she said when
she had stopped, "that's OK."
He had the vaguest sense of
being out of his depth. Like playing with the older boys when he was a
kid. Terrified they'd kill him or at
least cause him injury.
"I don't want you to
misunderstand, CJ. I was tired. It
won't happen again."
"Of course," she said still
not completely serious, "and I'll try to be less distracting."
He nodded and thrust his
hands into his pockets. He turned to leave and then turned back on a whim.
"CJ, you know that mustard
blouse you were wearing the day before last? It was ah... filmy - I think it was
silk?"
"Yes?"
"I ah... find that blouse very
distracting."
She nodded gravely.
"I'll bear that in mind."
She didn't wear it the next
day. Or the next. But on Friday as he walked past the press room he caught a
glimpse of yellow behind the podium hidden partly by her I-mean-business style
jacket.
He liked to think he was too
old to be teased so he attributed it to some kind of fluke or misunderstanding,
the charming kind that was prevalent in the White House of late. And she was
wearing pants anyway. She usually did. So what did it mean, if anything?
He bumped into Josh outside
the pressroom barely preventing himself from winding up on the floor.
It meant she was distracting.
So damned distracting.